


Dream Boys

by greenJeanKirstein



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Alcohol, First Kiss, Fluff, Gen, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Sex, Kissing, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, Skating, soft bois, weirdly elaborate descriptions of tattoos
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-08
Updated: 2017-10-21
Packaged: 2018-11-10 16:46:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11130723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenJeanKirstein/pseuds/greenJeanKirstein
Summary: Drabbles that feature the boys of Dream Pack in various sceneries. Mostly based on prompts. Features dream pack!Noah Czerny. All the Dream Pack boys are 18 or over (if not stated differently).Mature rating just in case (implied themes, mostly).





	1. Wanna see me a do a kickflip? Noah/Skov

“Wanna see me do a kickflip?” Noah asked, stopping next to Skov who was sitting on a bench, drinking a cup of coffee.

 

“A what?”

 

“A kickflip,” Noah smiled, leaning down to poke Skov’s cheek. “It’s a skateboard thing, silly.”

 

Skov rolled his eyes, knocking Noah’s hand away. He knew what a kickflip was, but he had not thought Noah could do it. Although Noah owned skateboards, dressed like a skater and was all about that ‘skater lyfe’, Skov had been skating ever since he could remember, and Noah had been for... A week.

 

“You don’t think I could?” Noah pouted, tilting his head like a sad puppy, huffing when his bleached blonde hair fell into his eyes. He held up a finger, signaling for Skov to wait with his answer, and pulled out some pastel hairpins, using them to pull his hair out of his eyes.

 

Skov thought he looked cute like that. Which did not say much because he thought Noah looked cute always. But instead of voicing his thoughts, he just shrugged. “Doubt so. You can barely fucking skate without falling over, Noah.”

 

Noah scoffed, flicking Skov’s shoulder. “You’re being rude, Skov. Want to bet I can do a kickflip?”

 

Laughing, Skov nodded, tilting his snapback back away from his face. Betting Noah that he could not do a kickflip was Noah giving him an automatic win. Of course he would take the bet.

 

“Yeah, sure. What do I get when I win?” He asked, smirking, looking up at Noah. Noah smiled too, thinking for a while, poking Skov’s cheek in thought.

 

“A kiss?”

 

“I get kisses all the time,” Skov arched a brow. Noah gave out kisses like they were nothing, kissing his friends on lips or cheeks to wake them up, on foreheads to wish them well, and everywhere else when he was especially needy for attention.

 

Noah thought for a bit longer, chewing on his lip. “Two kisses?”

 

Skov shook his head. “I want this.” He pointed to the sweater that Noah was wearing and Noah frowned, confused about that.

 

“You want me to give you my sweater?” Noah pulled at his sweater a bit - it was not anything special, just a black sweater with write pattern over it. It was not even expensive or new.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“...Why?”  


Skov tugged on the hem of the sweater as well, smiling only a tiny bit. “Smells like you, soft like you. Besides, I know you’ve got a tank top under it. Wanna see your tattoos.”

 

Noah blushed, but pushed off with his skateboard, getting ready to do a kickflip. “But if I do it-” he warned Skov, “I’m getting your hat.”

 

Skov just nodded, watching Noah. He was excited to see how much Noah had learned in a week. It could not have been much, but it was still exciting to see his friend do his very first kickflip. So far he had only seen Noah skate around and fall a lot.

 

Noah got ready to do the kickflip, standing on the skateboard, left foot near the edge, feet spread, right foot between the middle and the edge of the skateboard. He pressed down on the edge with his left foot, jumped, and tried to slide his right foot diagonally over the edge to make the skateboard rotate, but his angle was wrong and instead of doing a kickflip, he almost fell over as he came down from his jump. He cursed, loud, and Skov tutted, wiggling his finger at Noah.

 

“You need to jump higher,” Skov said, getting up and holding a hand out for Noah, wanting his skateboard to show him how it was done. “And kick diagonally across. Don’t be hesitant. The board feels your fear.”

 

Noah handed over his skateboard, then watched in awe as Skov pushed himself off the ground and did a high kickflip, making it look so effortless and _cool_. He did not even flinch as he got back to the ground.

 

“That was amazing!” Noah cheered, smiling widely as he pulled Skov into a hug, kissing him long and soft, a kiss that Skov returned with great joy. Noah was always very eager for soft gestures of affection, ones that Skov returned without any complaints.

 

When they pulled away, Skov had a hand in Noah’s sweater, tugging on it. “This, off,” He said, still balancing on the skateboard. “Show me your pretty ink.”

 

Noah obliged, pulling off his sweater and giving it to Skov. Skov took it happily and tied the sweater’s arms around his waist, his attention on the ink on Noah’s arms. While Noah was not the most tattooed person of the pack - in fact, he only had a couple of bigger pieces to Skov’s own collection of smaller tattoos - his ink was well done and well cared for. There was a skull inside a rose on his inner arm, near the elbow, a constellation going up from his outer arm, flowers, so many purple flowers running from his elbow to his wrist, hugging Noah’s whole forearm tightly and a moon with flowers growing out of it on his bicep. Noah’s other arm only had a mandala in the inner elbow, but it had clean and sharp lines and was Skov’s favourite piece on Noah.

 

“You like it?” Noah asked, spreading his arms and posing. Skov nodded, snorting a bit, pulling Noah closer. “You know I like seeing your ink.” He very carefully touched the slightly red skin near the flowers, making sure Noah’s tattoo wasn’t inflamed. Noah took great care of his ink, but Skov was still worried.

 

“Skov?” Noah poked his cheek and whined. “Can we go back to doing kickflips?”

 

As he let go of Noah’s hand, Skov nodded, getting back onto the skateboard. “Alright, let me teach you how it’s done, skaterboy.”

 

Although they spent their whole evening in the skating park and even if Noah fell more than he did not, by the end of the evening, he could do a meager kickflip. Skov praised him with words and with little hugs, and as they walked home from the park, they held hands and discussed their plans for the following week. It was nice, Skov thought, to hold hands with someone and not worry about life.

 


	2. Teach me how to fight. Noah/Skov

They were sitting under a tree, Noah leaning against the trunk, Skov on the ground, smoking a cigarette, his head in Noah’s lap, Noah running a hand through Skov’s bubblegum pink hair. It was a nice afternoon - no school, no homework, no worries or cares; the sun was not too bright and the occasional cloud made for a nice sight in the sky.

Noah started humming a song that Skov had heard a few times, coming from Noah’s headphones or when he passed the bathroom while Noah was showering, and Skov opened an eye to look up at the blond.

“What song is that?” he asked, offering Noah his cigarette stub for one last drag. Noah took the stub and simply snuffed it out against the tree.

“Blink-182.”

Skov snorted, shaking his head, eye falling shut again. Of course it was that shitty early 2000s band. He did not mind though as Noah had a soft sweet voice and he would blush every time someone heard him sing. Skov found it endearing.

“Skov?” Noah caressed his cheek and Skov opened his eyes, humming as an answer; yes, he was listening.

“Teach me how to fight.”

Skov sat up, frowning and eyeing Noah up and down. Sure, Noah was not as thin as Kavinsky or as frail as Prokopenko, but he was not a fighter.

“Noah, no offence, but I don’t think you could hurt a fly.”

Noah pouted and gave Skov a whine. “I can’t hurt anyone if you don’t teach me how, but if you taught me how to… I could help you and K the next time things get bad. C’mon, you know I can take a few hits.” He took Skov’s hand and formed a fist with it.

“Hit me. I can take it.”

Skov looked at him and punched him in the shoulder then, not using all of his force. Noah winced, but did not complain about it.

“Okay and now teach me how to hit you back.”

Skov sighed. That would be a long afternoon.

* * *

 

When they arrived back home that evening, Prokopenko nearly dropped what he was carrying (namely Kavinsky) when he saw them.

“What the _fuck_ happened to you!? Did someone beat you up?”

Even Kavinsky turned to look, mouth agape when he saw how both Skov and Noah were covered in bruises and how Skov had a black eye and Noah looked like his nose had only stopped bleeding a couple of minutes ago.

Noah shrugged, wiping his hands clean on his already dirty shirt and wrapped an arm around Skov’s shoulders. “Skov taught me how to fight. I’m improving! Slowly, but still.”

Skov nodded, pressing a kiss to Noah’s unbruised cheek. “He’s learning.”

Soon Prokopenko and Kavinsky were too busy with each other to see Noah and Skov retreating to Noah’s bedroom so that they could bandage each other up, and to kiss the bruises better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested on tumblr.


	3. I’m dying. Skov/Swan

“You know,” Swan looked at Skov who was lying face down on his bed, diagonally so that Swan could not possibly fit himself anywhere, “You’re being kind of a dick right now.”

Skov decided to answer simply - he farted loudly and laughed before Swan could make a grossed out face.

“That’s fucking gross.”

Skov kept laughing and Swan watched, sighing. “You should be glad that we’re best friends. If you were someone else, I would have thrown you off my bed.”

“You love me.” Skov stated, turning onto his back, smiling to Swan. 

“I love many people.”

Huffing, Skov kept looking at Swan and watched how Swan dressed; how he pulled on a pair of jeans that were just skinny enough, how he pulled on a white shirt, how his nimble fingers buttoned the shirt, how Swan took his time to do his tie properly, how he shrugged on a suit jacket. With all of those clothes on, one would never think that under the clothes Swan had dozens of tattoos and a lot of bruises that came and went.

“I’m dying,” Skov said quietly. “You’re so fuckin’ pretty.”

“You tell that to everyone?” Swan patted down his hair and went to Skov, leaning down to kiss him quickly, biting Skov’s lower lip gently to remind him - I am going to be late; I don’t have time for you right now.

“Only the pack,” Skov mumbled, wiping his lip, curling up on Swan’s bed again. “If you see anyone downstairs, tell them I want cuddles.”

Swan nodded, taking his rucksack and throwing it onto his shoulder. When he got downstairs, he called out Skov’s wish to whomever who could hear, and then left the house. If anyone did go cuddle Skov, he would have been none the wiser.


	4. It’s only one night, we’ll just share the bed. Jiang/Declan

After his father’s death, Declan took on many of his father’s endeavours. He dealt with shady men, traded shady artifacts for money, and sometimes laughed along with them as if he was truly their equal. There were parties, often, a few of them he had to attend, a couple of which were out of state and forced him to spend the night there. In a suit, a pair of expensive shoes, and wearing his best tie, Declan did look very much like his father, a tall striking figure with an enticing smile and a captivating manner of speech.

It was at one of these parties that he saw Jiang without Kavinsky for the first time. Jiang had a glass of champagne, and when their eyes met, Jiang smirked, raised the flute in a silent toast, and downed his drink. Declan did the same.

* * *

 

Three months later they were at another such an event, this time drinking champagne together while talking.

“This time the party is awfully dull,” Jiang noted, looking around the room with a bored expression. “Nobody is trying to start a fight or a riot. How boring.”

“Your idea of ‘not boring’ is intriguing,” Declan shot back with a grin, not looking around the room in search of a companion for the evening. Jiang was more than an intelligent companion. Not only was he that and beautiful, he was intriguing in his own way - Declan still had no idea _how_ and _why_ Jiang was at these events.

“You want to get out of here?” Jiang asked, putting the glass down onto a tray that a passing-by waiter carried.

“Where would we go?” the question was answered with a question as Declan put his glass away too.

“I have a few ideas.”

 

Thirty minutes later they were trying to open the door to Jiang’s hotel room without having to break the kiss. Jiang had Declan pressed against the door as he repeatedly tried to shove the keycard into the slot, too busy with attacking Declan’s lips to actually see what he was doing.

“Jiang,” Declan groaned, feeling around for the handle, “Inside, yes?”

Jiang huffed as he pulled away to finally unlock the door. “Inside, yes.”

 

Jiang had managed to relieve Declan of his jacket, his tie and his shirt before Declan could take a good look at the hotel room. It was a fancy hotel, that he knew, as the receptionist had been a polite young woman, the elevator had not made weird sounds coming up, and they used a key card to get into the room. There was just one thing he had not expected.

“Jiang, there’s only one bed,” Declan looked down at Jiang, who was rather hurriedly undoing his shoes.

Jiang arched a brow, his hands moving up-up-up to help Declan out of his slacks.

“Yeah? It’s only one night, we’ll just share the bed. Relax.”

He pulled Declan’s slacks down with a triumphant grin, but Declan got his attention again, this time by cupping Jiang’s cheek tenderly.

“You think I’ll stay?”

Jiang nuzzled his palm, kissing it and then nipped at the soft skin.

“I know you will.”

“Yeah?” Declan caressed Jiang’s cheek again before letting go of his face. Jiang grinned, rather proud of himself, and got up, shoving Declan onto the big plush bed.

“I’ll make you want to stay, Lynch. Pinky promise.”

 

Declan did not learn _why_ Jiang was at that party, but he did learn that Jiang kept his promises.


	5. Can I kiss you? Adam/Proko

When people brought Adam his cars to repair, he was either happy or upset - happy when the problems were easily solved or when he got paid extra for his quick work; upset when the customers complained or when they blamed Adam for their own mistakes. Rarely was he both happy and unhappy with customers.

With Prokopenko, however, he was both. Or maybe he was neither.

 

“Aaaadam, my car is broken!” Prokopenko called out as soon as he drove into the garage and Adam sighed, scratching his chin. It had only been a week ago when he fixed Prokopenko’s windshield, and it seemed that  _ again _ something was not working or broken.

“What’s the problem this time?” Adam asked, looking at the car as Prokopenko turned the engine off and got out of the car. “You drove here, so I’m assuming it’s not too bad.”

Prokopenko shrugged, kicking one of the tyres. 

“I don’t know. She’s slow, like an old lady. Could you boost her up?”

Adam looked at the car, not really understanding what Prokopenko wanted. 

“You want me to… instal nitro or something?”

“Yes!” Prokopenko gave Adam a wicked grin and thumbs up. “Could you?”

Adam shook his head, looking from the car to the silly young man. “Of course not. That’s illegal. How about I check if the oil needs changing.”

Although Prokopenko pouted the entire time Adam changed the oil of his car, he tipped well and did not curse at Adam as he drove away. 

 

Two weeks later, he was back, this time with a dent in his car. Smiling as he always did, Prokopenko described how he rammed a tree and asked Adam to fix the dent. 

“You can do it, yeah?” He asked, a few feet away from Adam, trying to peek over Adam’s shoulder at his car. “She’ll be okay, yes?”

Adam patted the dent a bit, humming. “I guess. More or less, at least. I’ll fix her by tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay!” Prokopenko reached out to pat Adam’s shoulder and Adam tensed, but let it happen. Prokopenko noticed, and gave him an apologetic smile. “Sorry. A bad habit. Boys keep telling me I’m really touchy feely, but I can’t help it. A hug makes everything better, you know.” He shrugged, so boyish that Adam felt a cold envy towards Prokopenko for having friends like that. Adam himself could not see Ronan and Gansey giving him hugs for no reason. Noah, perhaps, Gansey with a good enough reason, maybe, but Ronan never. 

“Just warn me the next time,” Adam said before turning back to work.

 

Months later, Prokopenko found Adam asleep in the car he was supposed to fix. Instead of waking him, Prokopenko climbed into the passenger seat and curled up as well, not minding some quality nap time. But Adam’s snores were loud enough to keep him awake, and Adam’s sleepy face was serene and pretty, and Prokopenko did not dare to look away.

“Can I kiss you?” he whispered, barely audible. 

Adam, who was asleep, did not hear.

 

Time passed. Prokopenko came and went, and Adam became more used to him. Sometimes Prokopenko talked while Adam repaired his car, and sometimes they just sat around, helping each other with homework. 

“Hey, Adam?” Prokopenko asked during one of such afternoons. “Do you like guys?”

Adam’s head snapped up and he looked at Prokopenko, very confused, but also flustered and scared. “W-why would you ask that?”

Prokopenko shrugged, continuing to write down his answers. “My friend thinks you’re cute. But he’s a guy. I’m just wondering if I should tell him he’ll never have a shot at you.”

Blushing, Adam shook his head, turning back to his homework. “I like guys, yeah.” After a while, he added, “But tell Kavinsky I’m not into him. Really, he’s hot and all, but I would rather date someone who has a clear head.”

Adam didn’t see Prokopenko’s little smile or his flushed cheeks.

 

“Adam?” Prokopenko and Adam were lying on the grass, a few blocks from where Adam worked. Prokopenko had insisted on a picnic, but all Adam wanted was a nap. They had compromised.

“Hm?” Adam’s eyes were closed and he did not wish to open them.

“Can I kiss you?”

Adam did not open his eyes as he thought it over. He knew Prokopenko was very touchy-feely and that he liked hugs. Still, he had thought of them as only friends.

“I- I guess.” he finally said, sighing when almost immediately a quick kiss was placed on his lips. Adam wasted no time in pulling Prokopenko into another kiss, this time slower and calmer.

Perhaps friends kissed each other, too.


	6. I want you and I know you want me too. Jiang/Declan

All of the Lynch brothers had secrets, one more than others. Ronan’s secrets were dangerous and big; much like predatory birds with rotten teeth and harsh voices or race cars with unlimited fuel and no seatbelts. Matthew’s secrets were oddly sweet; they were little flowers he gave to girls he liked, tubs of ice cream he ate while watching romantic comedies, pop CD’s him and his friends listened to when they were feeling down. Declan’s secrets were a mixture of sweet, big and dangerous; a bottle of vintage wine served with cheese that had lagered for years, a stack of money he could exchange for pills that made it possible to sleep, remnants of his father he traded on markets blacker than coal.

 

_ “It’d be best if you didn’t lie,” _

 

Declan could not fully hide the truth no matter how much he tried. At least from himself, that was. For others, the secret did not exist because they could not see it; could not see how Declan fidgeted with his hands or how he gradually started wearing darker coloured shirts instead of his usual white ones.

“White shirts just get dirty so quickly, you know,” he had smiled to his little brother when Matthew had asked about it. Matthew nodded, agreeing as long as Declan was paying for their meal and an extra serving of dessert.

Nobody on his floor noticed how he started coming back to the dorms later and later; when Declan bumped into a classmate at one in the morning, he apologised and quickly murmured, “Fell asleep in my car while revising. You know how it is.”

 

_ “I know you, Declan, I know your lies,” _

 

It became easier to hide his secrets once he graduated and moved. He drove back to Henrietta every Sunday to go to church with his brothers, and drove home after that. So what if most weeks he was in Henrietta on Saturday evenings, and if he left hours and hours after the church service was over. It was not like Ronan noticed. Him and Declan could barely speak the same language. It was as if they were from different worlds entirely, and in many ways, they were. It was not like Matthew noticed either. Perhaps when he had been made, his maker had not given him enough intelligence to notice secrets as if they were threads hanging in the air. 

It was not like it was much of a secret, at all.

_ “I want you and I know you want me, too.” _

 

_ Dangerous _ \- if Declan had to describe Jiang with one word, that would have been it. Jiang was fire that burned everyone that got too close, knife that was sharp enough to cut anyone who dared to test him. Yet there was a certain elegance to him; he was the kind of danger that lured people in. The first time Declan saw Jiang away from his friends, alone, in a suit, a flute of champagne in his hands, he was lured in, very much so. 

Although everything about Jiang screamed  _ danger _ \- his friends, his family, him himself, with time, Declan’s brain supplied him with  _ sweet _ when he thought of Jiang. Perhaps it was true that the most dangerous things tasted as sweet as honey…

 

_ “I want you, too, yeah.”  _

_ “Then take me.” _

**Author's Note:**

> Drabbles will be loosely related to one another.
> 
> On tumblr @softproko.tumblr.com


End file.
